


Can’t Look Away

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, unrealistic but who cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Short and sweet. I crave more Mycroft/Reader...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Can’t Look Away

He doesn’t come to the cafe every afternoon, but when he does he will arrive at 5pm. He orders a coffee and sits down at a small table in the window. He opens a book and reads for around half an hour, his posture growing more and more relaxed with every minute. Then he returns his cup and leaves without looking back.

He started coming in around a month ago. You’d been a regular at this cafe before, but now you come in religiously. Every day on which he doesn’t show up is a disappointment, every day on which he graces the cafe with his presence is a gift. Can you call it stalking when you just observe? You’ve been here before him, after all. You dread the day on which he might stop coming here, yet you can’t work up the courage to speak to him.

How could you speak to him? He is… untouchable perfection. A tall, lean figure hugged by clearly bespoke suits. He has many different suits, but the dove grey one he’s wearing today is one of your favourites. Hair slightly slicked back, his face is relaxed, a slight smile on his lips as he reads. Sometimes he chuckles to himself when he reaches a good part of the book. You’re not getting any work done while he’s here, too focused on catching his joy.

You glance at your watch. The half hour is almost over. Too bad. The setting sun is bathing him in golden light and you could stare at his profile forever. He closes the book and takes the last sip of his coffee. You quickly look down into your laptop as he stands. A moment later you look up again. One last glance at him while he—

“Excuse me?”

The low voice travels right through you, leaving goosebumps on your skin. It’s gentle and soft. Curious, not angry.

“Yes?” 

You look up. He’s standing there, right in front of you. For the first time you see him up close. Two stormy blue eyes are fixing you, the stare calculating, slightly menacing. My god, he’s tall. You swallow.

“May I sit?” he asks.

You can just nod, your voice deserting you. He draws out a chair and sits down opposite you. It’s only you two, the rest of the cafe is empty. It’s a small, hidden place and you’d chosen it because it’s quiet. Maybe he’d done the same.

“Thank you. May I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question.”

He smiles. “Very well. I’ve noticed you… watching me. Intently. Why?”

Caught red-handed. You blush up to your ears, cheeks growing hot. Still, there’s no way around this now. Might as well tell him the truth.

“I was… oh god… I’m so sorry. I was admiring you.”

Surprise flashes over his face. “Admiring? Me?”

“Yes. I think you look… ah, this is embarrassing. I think you’re very pleasing to look at. I couldn’t look away. I’m sorry. I will stop.”

He pauses slightly, then taps his finger on the table. “Do you want to stop?”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, definitely.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I was just curious. I thought maybe my presence annoyed you.”

“Far from it.”

He looks you up and down. “Writing an article?”

“I… yes. I’m a freelance writer. How did you know?”

He grins and another hot flush travels through you. God, it should be illegal to look this good. He shakes his head.

“A good guess.”

“A very good guess…”

He shrugs. “I’m very good at guessing. I’d guess, for example, that you would very much like to get to know me.”

“Why?”

“Your obvious interest in my looks, for example. Admittance of your actions rather than untruths, which speaks to an investment into this relationship rather than a quick way out. I admit you intrigue me. I wouldn’t be against getting to know you as well.”

You fidget, wringing your hands.

“I appreciate you must be nervous right now. You don’t need to be.”

“If you say so.”

He places his hand on the table, palm upwards. It looks like an invitation.

“You simply must learn to trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“You will. Take my hand.”

With shaking fingers you close your laptop, then place your hand into his. His fingers close around yours. His skin is soft and cool.

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Uh, not as such…”

“If you’d indulge me, I’d love to take you home.”

You sputter. Before you can draw back your hand, he grabs it closer.

“I mean it.”

“Home as in…?”

“Bed, yes. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You stare at him. His eyes are gentle, his smile emphasizes the laughter lines on his face. He may not be what you would call a classic beauty, but you find him extremely attractive and the thought of him above or below you makes a rush of arousal flood your system.

“I’d take that as a yes, but I would still like to hear it.”

“Yes,” you manage. “Yes, please.”

“Excellent.”

He raises your hand to his lips and bestows a lingering kiss to your skin. His breath is so hot. Immediately you’re a mess. Is this really happening? It must be. He’s picking up your things, putting them into your bag, then he stands, holding it out to you.

“Promise you’re not a serial killer?”

He pauses, then bursts out laughing. “Promise,” he says with a wink.

“Alright.”

“I see you’ve learned to trust me.”

You stick out your tongue.

“Careful. I might bite it off if you do that again.”

“Try me.”

“Fine.”

He places your bag down and puts one hand on your cheek, the other on the back of your head. His mouth stops a hair’s breadth from yours.

“Still want me to bite off your tongue?” he says, and his lips brush against yours.

“Tell me your name first.”

“Mycroft,” he says and kisses you. 

He licks across your lips and you let him in, only for him to suck your tongue into his mouth and bite it playfully. You wanted to laugh. Now all you can do is suppress a moan. 

“Come on, then.”

He grabs your bag with one hand, your hand with the other and pulls you along, out of the cafe.


End file.
